Sand Castles and Sea Glass
by Uchiha Mira
Summary: Set in the M. timeline after Trunks destroys the androids, Trunks thinks back on his life and Gohan. Will he be able to move on?


Disclaimer: I do not own DB/Z/GT. Not that I'd want to own GT anyway, I mean, just look what the stupid animators did to Trunks and Gohan! Trunks especially...he was SO fine, and then....eeeewwww.....  
  
A/N: Well, this was my first DBZ fic, but I still like it a lot. Thanks a ton to my sister Leia who helped me get it to the state it's at now...it's unlikely I'd have posted any stories at all had she not helped and encouraged me with this one. Any criticisms are welcome as I aim to improve.  
  
  
  
Sand Castles and Sea Glass  
  
The sun was sinking slowly below the horizon of a once again safe, yet ruined world. Bright strokes of crimson streaked the sky, and the orange brilliance of the vast, glowing sun was illuminated in the ever-moving waters of the lake below. A lone figure stood, silent, on an outcropping of rock, lavender hair gently buffeted by the warm breeze. Ice blue eyes stared unblinkingly toward the disappearing sun, watching ceaselessly as the waves lapped constantly at the shore many feet below.  
  
Trunks watched as the colours arched and shifted in the infinite expanse above him, though his eyes remained cold, as if protecting himself from any outward signs of emotion which could cause further pain. Though it had been over a month since the destruction of the Androids who had plagued his planet and home, the burning anger smouldering inside him did not cease. Nor did the pain. Fists clenched at the very thought of the ruthless duo; a pair of maniacal killing machines who terrorized the Earth, cold and efficient, and destroyed human life as if it were all only a cruel game.  
  
Trunks fought to keep his anger in check as he felt his energy level rise dramatically, and turned his eyes skyward instead. The sky was now drenched in a deep red, as if stained by the blood of millions of innocent people. People whom the Androids had murdered without a second thought, sick with the desire to kill and an undue hatred toward the human race.  
  
In killing the Androids, Trunks had expected his life to magically turn itself around. The years of pain and agony would all vanish with the annihilation of those who had been the cause of his suffering. But it had been a fool's dream, and fairy tales never come true. Everyone knew that; it had been foolish of him to believe otherwise. The Android's death brought security to the world once more, but it did not quell the war of emotions raging within him, threatening to tear his heart in two.  
  
Trunks sank to his knees on the hard rock, the same rock on which he had spent countless hours training ceaselessly with Gohan in attempt to reach Super Saiyan.  
  
Gohan.  
  
The raven-haired boy whose power and strength were equal to Trunks' own, yet whose eyes held so much compassion and laughter - rare traits in a world of turmoil. Gohan, who had taken it upon himself to challenge the Androids on behalf of a helpless world. Gohan, Trunks' mentor and best - indeed, his only - friend...whom the Androids had brutally murdered without a glimmer of remorse.  
  
The brilliantly painted sky suddenly vanished, to be replaced by dark, ominous clouds of the past. Memories from nine years prior came rushing forward, so clear in Trunks' mind it seemed as if the horrible event had occured only a few days before.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Trunks, a boy of only fourteen, flew over the wreckage of what at one time had been a thriving and prosperous city. Rain pelted Trunks' body, soaking his clothes until they clung to his skin, making him shiver with the cold, but he didn't care. Bodies of innocent people, children, lay among the rubble, but this time the young demi-saiyan did not pause to search for survivors. His mind was set on one thing; finding Gohan. Trunks struggled with the urge to fly faster, only managing to keep his speed at a minimum for fear of missing his friend in his haste.  
  
" Darn you Gohan! " Trunks said aloud, fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails bit into his palms, drawing blood, but the boy didn't notice or care. " You shouldn't have fought alone!"  
  
Yet the anger in his voice was false, and beneath it lay complete and utter despair. He had been searching for nearly an hour, calling Gohan's name desperately until his voice was hoarse, still daring to hope for the impossible. Yet he knew all along that a response would not come. Oh, why had Gohan fought the Androids alone? He knew he would be unable to succeed, even more so now with his recent injury, and now...NO! Trunks shook his head violently, refusing to let the though enter his mind...but to no avail. Gohan couldn't be dead...could he? Tears welled up in the young boy's eyes at the very thought, and he brushed them away angrily. Crying was for cowards, and there was no time for that now.  
  
It was difficult to see in the darkness created by black storm clouds which loomed menacingly overhead, obliterating his surroundings and blocking out light and hope . The entire city was enveloped in darkness and despair. Trunks shivered and strained to see, his eyes picking apart the landscape for the form of the one who had become so familiar and dear to him over the years.  
  
Light from a pink neon sign flickered uncertainly, illuminating the surrounding wreckage for a few precious seconds at a time. Then he saw him. Trunks dropped from the air like a stone, his rough impact with the ground jarring his ankles, but in his anxiety he was not even aware of the pain. Trunks' feet moved him forward almost robotically, mind screaming desperately at them to run, but his muscles paid him no heed. His pace remained agonizingly slow, as though unwilling to reach the body sprawled in the flattened wreckage of a building.  
  
His body broken, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, lay the lifeless form of Son Gohan. Rain plastered the coal black hair against his once proud forehead, and soaked the tatters of his gi. His face, with its chiseled features and long, deep scar, was expressionless, yet filled with pain. His clothing torn and burned, the once orange material was now stained a deep red. The sickening stench of death and burned flesh hung heavy in the air. As Trunks watched, his best friend's features were gradually overcome by water, his face obscured as the puddle in which Gohan lay grew deeper. Soon, Trunks felt he would disappear forever.  
  
"He can't breathe down there," Trunks thought for an insane second, then his breath caught in an anguished sob as he realized the idiocy of his words. He could only stare, silently cursing his helplessness, as the man who had once been Gohan became slowly immersed in the water. A reddish stain eddied forth from Gohan's body, tainting the water a dark crimson as the last of his life- blood seeped out of him.  
  
Trunks stood, stricken, at the body of his only friend. Tears of sorrow poured freely down his cheeks with such force that any attempt to stop them would have been futile. He was vaguely aware of himself speaking, though most of the words went practically unnoticed as they flowed from his lips.  
  
" No.." The words came in an almost inaudible whisper. " No! You were everything to me! "  
  
A wave of helplessness washed through Trunks' body, and the pain of loss, never before felt with such magnitude, wrenched at his heart as if trying to tear it to pieces. "...everything..." Fat drops splashed into the puddle at his feet as his tears mingled with the chilling rain.  
  
Trunks lifted Gohan's mangled body from the water, shaking him in a desperate attempt to rouse him, though he knew the effort was in vain. He clutched Gohan's head to his chest, sobbing as his mentor remained unmoving and stiff in his arms.  
  
Suddenly, something inside him snapped, an emotional dam burst, and a scream of anger, frustration, pain, loss, and despair erupted from the very center of his being. Emotions swirled and molded into one; rage.  
  
Blue eyes flickered, then blazed to green, and rain-soaked lavender hair was transformed to spikes of gold. Silvery-white lightning forked outwards from his body, cracking the already ruined cement further still, flickering and sparking around his clenched fists. Trunks felt his energy escalate, felt the power crackling beneath his skin that seemed to replace the very blood in his veins. Yet he took no joy in its presence; felt only the deep pang of loss. Torrents of tears cascaded from the endless depths of his emerald eyes. Trunks clung to the body of his best friend, not wanting to let him go as deep, wracking sobs shook his small frame. In that moment, Trunks was forced to change from a 14-year-old boy to a 14-year-old man.  
  
***  
  
  
  
Trunks kicked at the stones by his feet in...in what? So many emotions welled up inside him at the memory, it was impossible to name them all. Trunks' gaze fell on a child's sand castle build on the shore below, the ebbing tide beginning to reduce the carefully constructed towers and turrets to indistinguishable mounds of sand. Trunks watched the process, unable to look away. It was as if the waves, with those grains of sand, were slowly washing his life away.  
  
Finally averting his gaze from the shore, Trunks looked to the sky once again. The sun's brilliance was surrendering to the night, proud shades of orange and crimson giving way to deeper hues of purple and blue. Silver stars began to peep tentatively from beneath the mask of colour, pinpricks of pale light quivering in the darkness. How could there be so much beauty in the world when there was still so much pain? Trunks' features contorted as memories and emotions he had for so long tried to forget came flooding back. He grimaced and concentrated on directing his thoughts to something else.  
  
Gohan had always loved sunsets. The two of them had sat watching them on countless occasions, Trunks a young teenager and Gohan's pupil, Gohan his mentor and friend. Gohan had frequently spoken of doing the same with his own sensei, Piccolo; the Namekian whom Trunks had never met until his mission to the past. That was another thing. Trunks had expected that by traveling to the past before the arrival of the Androids, he could change history and prevent the deaths of his family and friends. And he had; for that time-line. His efforts had done nothing for the world in which he was forced to reside. Gohan was still dead, and always would be, for with the death of Piccolo, the Dragonballs had vanished, too.  
  
Overwhelming despair claimed Trunks' thoughts once more, and a sob caught in his throat. In that moment, he could think of no reason to continue living. The Androids were at last gone, the shattered cities left in their wake beginning to be rebuilt. He had even destroyed Cell before the monster had a chance to wreak havoc as he had in the past timeline. The Earth was safe once more. His existence no longer mattered; his life ceased to be necessary. It seemed so simple; all the years of agony and pain which tortured him relentlessly could be erased in an instant, ending his suffering. Forever. It almost seemed too simple. Trunks smiled grimly and looked at his hands, which held the power to release him from everything which had held him captive for so long. The pain of loss had become too great to bear; death seemed almost a welcome advocate. There was nothing left to live for.  
  
No, that was not entirely true. His mother still needed him. Bulma was strong, there was no doubt in that, and more than capable of caring for herself; physically. Though the now middle-aged woman held herself proudly and always kept a smile open for her son, Trunks had seen her, more than once, sitting by her window on starless nights, tears streaming down her still young face. Though her sobs were silent, Trunks could see the emptiness in his mother's eyes, emptiness which could only have come from years of suffering. Bulma had already lost a husband; the last thing she needed in this crumbling world was to lose her only son.  
  
And there was the Earth, too. Though seemingly safe for the moment, it was impossible to foretell what the future would bring. As the last of the Earth's defenders, it seemed Trunks' responsibility to protect it from any dangers beyond human control, even if its inhabitants were unaware of his existence. And, somehow, on top of all that, Trunks could sense that ending his life in this fashion was not the way to make Gohan happy. He sighed, a combination of submission and the confusion of indecision.  
  
Trunks' gaze returned to the sand castle on the shore. All traces of the structure were gone, but in its place lay a glimmering shard of deep blue glass, still wet from the waves which had washed it ashore. Jagged edges had been softened by time and waves until they were no longer sharp, but curved gently and were smooth to the touch.  
  
A sad smile touched Trunks' lips, and he flew down to the small spit of sand, feet landing softly on the damp shoreline. Bending down, he picked up the piece of glass, brushing away the few grains of wet sand which still clung to its surface. Turning it over in his palm, it struck the young half- saiyan how similar to this piece of glass his life had, or someday would, become. Though the things which he had previously held so dear had been taken from him as easily as the tide washes away a castle of sand, he now realized that with time, these wounds would heal. Though bitter memories and regrets now bit viciously into his being, time would shape them until they became as smooth and beautiful as a piece of sea glass sculpted by waves.  
  
Calloused fingers closed over the source of his new-found solace, the treasure fitting snugly into his palm. The pain felt in the past would never be forgotten, but it was time to move on. Trunks raised eyes which now held something that had been absent for countless years; hope; to the now black and star-studded heavens. Though he couldn't see him, Trunks sensed that, somehow, wherever he was, Gohan was proud of him. 


End file.
